


Lego House

by 1toomany



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Bipolar Disorder, It just happened, M/M, Mickey dealing with Ian's illness, Multi, i have no idea what this is, kinda angsty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-08
Updated: 2015-01-08
Packaged: 2018-03-06 15:11:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3138899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1toomany/pseuds/1toomany
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mickey dealing with ian's illness, basically.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lego House

**Author's Note:**

> This is… well I don’t even know what this is. I was listening to the radio and Ed Sheeran’s Lego house came on and this just kinda happened. It’s 2 am and it’s not proof read so all mistakes are totally mine. I think no one will probably read it anyway. So, yeah…

 

 

“I’m gonna build us a house.”

 

***

_I could be wrong but… it could be bipolar disease like our mom._

_I could be wrong…_

_I could be wrong…_

 

 

Yes, be wrong. Please be wrong.

  


Mickey remembers hearing  that a person takes an average of 7192 steps per day. Well if that were true then he could easily stay in bed for the rest of the week.

He’s pacing through the small hallway in one of those clinics he never thought he’d end up in. If it was a carpet floor instead of a tiled one, he would have worn a hole in it already. The clinic is not only expensive, hell they charge you the second you step in and say hello, but it’s also one of the best in the city.

 

When Lip came to his house three days ago and handed Mickey a piece of paper with a phone number and an address of a psychiatric clinic where he made an appointment for Ian to get checked up, whatever beef Mickey had with the guy, he instantly put behind him. Apparently Lip’s girlfriend Amanda comes from a wealthy family with good connections, and her mother happens to have attended college with doctor Marion Jonas, one of the best psychiatrists there was. Lip explained his brother’s situation to Amanda and she somehow convinced her mom to call in a free favor from her college friend. It doesn’t matter it was reluctantly and with a lot of nagging from Amanda’s mom’s side, what matters is that Ian had an appointment with an expert and that they’ll finally find out just how bad his situation really was.  
 

 

After dr. Jonas spent an hour alone with Ian, Mickey is called to her office. Ian is sitting on the couch next to her desk, looking all pale and tired but at the same time so fucking beautiful. He looks up at Mickey and offers a quick smile. Mickey smiles back.

Doctor Jonas motions for him to sit in the chair opposite of her. “Alright, mr. Milkovich,” she starts. “Let me fill you in on the conversation I had with Ian and then I’ll explain exactly what we’re dealing with here, alright?” When Mickey nods she nods back at him and puts her glasses on. There’s a folder in front of her that she opens and starts reading from it. It’s informations about Ian’s family history, his relationship with his siblings and his parents, his thoughts, fears, wishes. And informations about his relationship with Mickey.

As doctor Jonas is reading from the folder Mickey and Ian exchange looks. There are some stuff in there that make Ian blush and some that make him cringe. But Mickey sits in that chair and listens to every bit of it. When doctor finally finishes she closes the folder, takes her glasses off and leans back in her chair, crossing her legs and placing her hands down onto her lap.

“So mr. Milkovich, as I was saying to Ian earlier, I can confirm your suspicions and safely say that Ian is indeed suffering from an illness known as bipolar disorder,” she is speaking slowly and calmly but Mickey’s heart is pounding in his chest and he’s terrified of the words he knows are coming from her mouth next. “Bipolar disorder is in fact a brain disorder, it’s a manic-depressive illness that causes shifts in mood, activity and basically ability to function in everyday life. There are many reasons why a person becomes affected by it, from genetics to brain structure. The good thing is that bipolar disorder can be treated, and people with this type of illness can lead full and productive lives. You came to me just in time and now we can try and see which of the medications I’m about to prescribe Ian would be the best for him without making him suffer the side effects too much.”

Mickey looks at Ian while the doctor writes something on the paper and puts it in a folder. Ian’s  lying down now, his eyes closed and his hands folded on his chest. He looks so peaceful and so… so healthy.  Mickey’s heart is breaking. He wants to jump from his seat and tear this whole goddamn office down, this whole fucking building. He wants to take Ian by the hand and take him somewhere where the sky is clear from all the clouds and the grass grows greener, where there’s no bipolar and no meds and the street are painted in Ian’s favourite colour.

“Mister Milkovich?” the doctor taps him on the hand from across the table and he cringes, pulling his hand back. “Did you hear what I just said?” she repeats.

“Yeah,” Mickey replies dryly.

“Well there’s one more thing I would like to address and it concerns you,” she continues. “This disorder can put an enormous strain on relationships, be it with family, friends or a partner. It’s possible for Ian to isolate himself from the people that care about him. Now, what you mr. Milkovich and the rest of Ian’s family can do, is to be patient, listen to him, don’t blame him for some things he might eventually do and accept his apology when he offers you one. Educate yourself on this matter and encourage him to take his medications, because he needs to accept that there will be times when he’ll need help. Good thing is that Ian is well aware of his condition, ” she looks at Ian and nods, “right, Ian?”

Mickey is relieved when Ian nods in agreement and looks at Mickey with almost apologetic eyes. Jesus Christ, Mickey doesn’t think he can make it til the end of this session. He’s two seconds away from tearing his own skin, his feet are getting cold and he’s clenching his fists so hard his knuckles turn white. And twenty minutes later, after doctor Jonas is done with explaining the bad and hard situations they will most likely find themselves in, Mickey is relieved that he finally gets to take Ian home.

***

 

It’s the middle of the night when it first happens. Mickey’s chest is pressed tightly against Ian’s back and the palm of his right hand splayed across Ian’s chest, right on that part of his body where his heart lays underneath. Mickey doesn’t understand it but he feels better knowing the beats are still strong and even and they travel through his hand all the way to that little place behind his ribs Ian now owns completely. He doesn’t think he could fall asleep without them ever again.

There is dampness on the sheets. Mickey feels it when he presses his thigh down onto them. He thinks it’s strange because usually when Ian cries during the night Mickey can feel his tears rolling slowly down Mickey’s arm, the one that’s pillowing Ian’s head.

He feels Ian’s body shaking and then soft quiet sobs.

‘’Hey, it’s ok,’’ he says softly while pulling the blanket off of them and stroking Ian’s shoulder gently. ‘’ Come on tough guy, let’s get you cleaned up,’’ he gets up from his spot and rounds the bed. Ian’s eyes are glassy, there are tears gathering in the corners until they are rolling down his pale cheeks, one by one. Mickey lifts Ian’s weak body and helps him stand on his feet. Ian’s feet are like jello, after weeks in bed he just isn’t strong enough. But that’s alright. He doesn’t have to be anymore. Mickey will be strong for both of them.

It’s a tough job getting Ian to the bathroom but Mickey somehow manages it. He strips him off his sweaty boxers and tank top and opens the faucet. Fucking hot water, always have to wait till it gets here. The pipes are old and they squeak and it’s a fucking miracle no one in the house hears it. Because last thing Mickey needs right now is a nosy russian whore bitching about her kid waking up from all the noise.

Mandy hears it though. She knocks on the bathroom door and enters when Mickey says it’s ok.

“Is he alright?” he asks once inside. Mickey is kneeling on the floor next to the tub, with Ian beside him. He’s rubbing Ian’s back, helping him keep his balance while Ian’s emptying his stomach into the toilete.

“Yeah, he just...” Mickey doesn’t want to finish. He knows Ian would never let Mandy see him this   weak, this vulnerable, this powerless.

“Jesus, he’s soaking in sweat.”

“Yeah,” Mickey nods and puts a hand under the faucet. The water is warm, finally. “It’s the new cocktail of meds, they make him feel nauseous and sweat more.  Doc said this could happen,” he explains to his sister and motions to her to help him get Ian up and into the tub. Hundred and seventy pounds of dead weight is a lot to handle, but with the help from his sister Mickey manages to place Ian in the tub and slowly slides in behind him. He nods towards the small cupboard under the sink. “Get me that cloth there,” he tells his sister and leans Ian’s head back against his chest.

“Need me to help?” Mandy asks shyly, looking away from them. Mickey knows this is too much for his sister to handle, seeing someone you love become so helpless, someone you always thought of as strong, determined, solid.

“‘S okay,” he replies, “I got him.”

She turns to him slowly, places her reassuring hand on her brother’s shoulder. “Yeah,” she nods, “ you got him.” She glances at her best friend once more. Mickey doesn’t miss the sadness written all over her face when she closes her eyes and presses a gentle kiss on Ian’s forehead, before she exits the bathroom altogether.

He knows she’s hurting just as much as he is. Because even though he and Ian are together now, Mickey knows Ian was Mandy’s long before he became his.

He puts the cloth under the faucet and runs it softly against Ian’s face, his chest, arms, back. He drapes himself around Ian and places a tender kiss on his boyfriend’s neck. It’s a good thing they are already wet because the chorus of  I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry  and  quiet sobs coming from the man in front of him is fucking tearing Mickey’s heart apart. So if he lets a tear fall from his eyes while he rocks their body in a slow rhythm, he can always blame the water.

***

 Fiona texts him every day. It has become their morning routine.

It’s usually around ten, just when her break at the diner starts. Mickey is so familiar with her work schedule he could recite it if you woke him up in the middle of the night. Texts are always the same. _‘How is he?’_

After Mickey sends _‘same’_ another one comes in.

 _‘did he eat anything?’_  He wishes he could write different letters, longer letters that explain what and when, but instead it’s always that short two-letter word, a lie Mickey used to tell himself whenever the question of falling for Ian Gallagher came to mind. _‘no.’_

He knows what the next text will say, and that’s a toughest part. Because there’s the question he doesn’t know the answer to. ‘how are you holding up?’ 

Now, he could simply send an 'ok', but that would be a fucking lie. Because he isn’t doing okay, he’s far from doing ok actually. He’s fucking falling apart. Watching this one person he loves more than anything in this world (hell, come to think of it, he doesn’t think he knew what love was until Ian strolled into his life), become more and more of a shell of a person he was, right there in their bed.

As much as he loves Ian, he hates himself for not being able to stop that even more.

He says _‘ok’_.

***

 

Debbie comes by every day after school. Sometimes it’s later on the afternoons because she still runs a daycare and with Fiona working, Lip off at college and Carl, well God knows what’s up with that kid, everything fell on her back. Batty Sheila is there helping her every once in awhile but  Debbie is the kind of a person that likes to have control over things. She does however appreciate her help.

First couple of days she would just sit on the edge of the bed and tell Ian about her day. But lately Mickey feels like she’s been coming over more for his rather than Ian’s sake. It sounds fucked up to say it like that but Mickey sees it in her eyes.

There’s a knock on the door and Mickey knows it’s Debbie. It’s four in the afternoon and the daycare is probably over. He doesn’t get up from his spot on the couch just like she doesn’t wait for someone to open the door for her. She’s here so often that Mickey feels like she lives here. Shit, with all the people in this house he wouldn’t be surprised if someone else moved in without him even realising it.

“Hey,” she says as she enters the room, closing the door behind her. She’s carrying a small pot in her hands. “Chicken soup, Sheila made it for Ian,” she says and places the pot on the dining room table. She takes off her scarf and beanie and comes to stand next to the couch. “Any improvement?” she asks.

“Same as yesterday,” he responds and gets up. He walks to his bedroom and she follows. He stops at the door frame and moves aside to let her in. “ You go ahead and I’m just gonna heat up the soup, maybe you’ll get him to eat couple of spoons at least,” he turns around and heads for the kitchen.

While he’s waiting for the soup to boil he thinks about Debbie. The girl reminds him so much of Ian. And not just the hair and the freckles. It’s the attitude, the empathy they both give each other and their siblings. She’s kind and gentle just like Ian and tough and persistent, always seeing good in everyone.

Mickey wonders if maybe she sees good in him too.

 

***

 

“I can’t look at him.”

Mickey means it when he says it one morning. Ian is finally out of the bed after eighteen days, eighteen long fucking days, and is changing Mickey’s son on their bed. Mickey’s back is to them and he’s looking through the window. Except he’s not looking. His eyes are closed and there are flashes popping up behind his eyelids. Flashes of that hot summer day, of Ian on the chair and Mickey on the couch and of a russian whore he now has to call his wife on top of him. 

“You don’t mean that,” Ian responds. Mickey doesn’t know how Ian can be so happy around the kid. It must be a Gallagher thing, he thinks. Ian must be used to changing diapers and all that baby shit they had going on there.

“I think I fucking hate him,” he confesses with a voice so broken it sounds like he’s been crying for weeks. “I can’t look into his eyes and not see you there on that chair and your lips shaking and I just… and then she… ”

Ian goes to put the kid in the crib they have in their room for when Svetlana stays at work late and it’s their turn to take care of the little guy. Mickey watches from the corner of his eye how gentle Ian is with the brat. How he lays him down on his back and pulls a blanket over his tiny body and tucks it under the kid’s small legs. Jesus, Mickey can’t even look at it.

“Stop that,” Ian whispers when he kneels behind Mickey and wrapps his long arms around his boyfriend’s chest. Mickey leans onto Ian’s arm and doesn’t care if Ian notices the dampness of tears coming from his eyes. “That shit is over, it’s behind us,” he whispers into Mickey’s ear and Mickey so wants to believe him. But he can’t. That day is always going to be with him, until they put him in the ground and cover him with stone.

“How can you be so damn cheerful around the kid all the time?” he wonders.

‘’He’s just a baby, Mick, you can’t blame him for anything,’’ Ian hugs him tighter.

‘’I fuckin’ know that, ‘s just… I keep hoping that maybe one day he’ll turn up to be someone else’s and then she’ll take him somewhere far from me, from us.’’ Mickey is sincere when he says that.’’ Jesus Christ, what kind of a person am I? Fuck.”

“You are a wonderful person Mick, it’s just… you were hurt and you have every right to feel the way you do right now,” Ian presses his lips against Mickey’s neck and Mickey tilts his head back, relaxing in small kisses his boyfriend is peppering him with. “But you can’t say he isn’t yours.”

“Well he might not be, you think the bitch used a raincoat every time someone plowed her?”He scoffs and covers Ian’s hands with his own.

“I don’t care because I know he’s yours.”

“How can you be sure?”

“He has your eyes.”

“He does not.”

“Does too. And I love him because he’s a part of you.”

 

Ten minutes later, after the kid is already fast asleep and Ian is taking a shower, Mickey walks over to the crib. He stands there and watches. Watches how his little chest is rising with every breath the baby takes and how his eyes are dancing behind his eyelids and he wonders if the kid can somehow feel it. If he can maybe feel Mickey’s indifference towards him, or the way Mickey cringes every time his small lungs let out a cry.

He knows he has to make it work. Not for himself. Not for Svetlana. Not for the baby. He has to make it work for Ian. So he reaches his hand into the crib towards the baby. But just before he can touch it he pulls his hand back. He let’s out a long sigh.

“I’m sorry kid,” he voices and walks away.

 

\------

 

They make love that night. With Mickey’s legs wrapped tightly around Ian’s waist and Ian’s fingers intertwined with his. It’s beautiful and slow and gentle, the way Ian moves inside of Mickey and when Mickey comes, it’s with Ian’s name crossing his lips and when Ian comes, it’s a silent prayer of Mickey, Mickey, Mickey…

Later, when they are enjoying their afterglow, Ian takes Mickey’s hand and presses their palms together.

“See?” he says. “Our life lines match perfectly. That means that whatever shit life throws our way, we are gonna make it. We are meant for each other.”

Mickey stops breathing. This man in front of him, this boy who was forced to become a man just like he himself has, this boy loves him. Yes. This boy fucking loves him. Why this perfect, beautiful, sweet, gentle creature loves someone like him is completely beyond Mickey.

“I never thought that someone could love me like this,” he says unknowingly, his voice nothing more than a broken whisper. _Jesus_ , he doesn’t even care he said it out loud. He’s just grateful that Ian doesn’t try to say anything back, he gently cradles Mickey’s face and plants a kiss on his lips. A kiss so light and soft that Mickey feels like he might have imagined it.

Yeah, Ian loves him.

But not as much as he loves Ian back.

 

***

 

‘’I’m moving out,’’ Mandy tells them one evening over dinner. They are alone in the house the three of them and they decided to have a proper family meal. Mickey knows Ian is used to having  these small family get togethers. Ian is feeling a lot better and he wanted to make his boyfriend and his best friend some meatballs.

‘’ The fuck are you talking about?’’ Mickey spits out at the same time Ian asks ‘’Moving out where?’’.

‘’Out of the house, out of town, out of the country...’’ Mandy says quietly. She picks around the plate with her fork and keeps gazing at her dinner.

Mickey drops his fork and it hits the plate with a loud thud. Mandy cringes at the sound.

‘’Like hell are you moving out,’’ he raises his eyebrows when he looks at her. He feels Ian’s hand on his knee, it’s Ian’s way of calming him down whenever he senses that Mickey’s upset. And damn right he’s upset. His sister just told them she’s moving out.

‘’Jesus Mick, it’s like a goddamn Grand central in this house, russian whores, people coming and going all the time, there’s no peace in here,’’ she looks up at her brother and clenches her fist around the fork. ‘’Besides, it’s not like there’s anything for me out here anymore.’’

‘’What do you mean, there ain’t nothing here for you, what about your work and-’’

‘’Please, like I’d want to spend my life working in that shithole where some old greasy dickhead thinks it’s alright to grope the person that just brought him his fucking eggs,’’ Mandy yells and pushes her plate away.

Mickey opens his mouth to protest but Ian beats him to it. He looks at his best friend. ‘’Mandy, you can’t leave, we care about you too much to let you go,’’ he says sincerely. ‘’Besides, where did you plan on moving?’’

‘’Indiana,’’ Mandy whispers.

‘’ Indi-what?’’ Mickey’s eyes widen and he nearly jumps up from his seat.

‘’Indiana,’’ she repeats louder this time. She picks up her plate and goes to put it in the sink. Leaning against it she says to them, “Please. I don’t wanna talk about it anymore.”  There’s anguish written all over her face when she slams her bedroom door and Mickey could swear he hears her crying. He tries to go over to her but Ian stops him.

“Let her go, Mick,” he whispers against his ear, “You have to let her go.”  
  


They say goodbye to Mandy thirteen days later. Spring is in the air and it’s  showing it’s palette of colours and Ian and Mandy are holding each other tight. The cab is waiting and Kenyatta is putting their bags in the trunk, telling Mandy to hurry the fuck up.

‘’Call me when you get there, alright?’’ Ian says and wipes her tears away. He kisses her forehead when she nods and whispers _Okay_.

Mickey is leaning against the fence, his arms crossed over his chest, looking down at his feet. Mandy comes to stand in front of him and rubs her hand gently down his shoulder.

‘’C’mon fuckhead, don’t you wanna say goodbye to your sister’’ she playfully kicks his shin.

He raises his head and gives her a vague look. ‘’Jesus, I still don’t get why the fuck would you go all the way to Indi-fucking-ana. What is there anyway? And with that piece of shit?” He shakes his head in disbelief.

“His family’s there, they say it’s easy to get a job and the rent is cheap,” she shrugs. “Besides, I think he’s gonna change and be better if it’s just the two of us. Maybe this is what’s best for me,  y’know?”

Mickey wants to say I know, but the truth is he doesn’t. His sister has always been there for him and the thought of not seeing her for possibly long time hurts his heart. “Jesus fucking…but, I mean, fucking Indiana?”

‘’Hey, don’t underestimate the hoosiers. Besides, look at Steve McQueen and Michael Jackson… or Jimmy Dean. They were all from Indiana and they turned out ok,’’ she jokes.

‘’Yeah, they turned out dead more likely,’’ Mickey retorts and Mandy and Ian roll their eyes at him.

‘’Just… Be careful, alright?’’ he pulls her into a quick hug that one would almost miss if they blinked. Because this is the best Mickey’ll ever do. If there’s one thing he doesn’t know it’s how to say goodbye.

 

 

Later that evening, after Ian’s done showering and he lays down on the bed next to Mickey, wrapping his big hands around Mickey’s waist with his head on Mickey's chest, Mickey wonders whether what Mandy had said earlier that day made any sense. Maybe he should take Ian away. Somewhere where there would be no yelling in russian at midnight, or baby crying all day long. No one to come bursting through the door just as they were about to have sex or cuddle or kiss. Maybe then he could take better care of Ian. Maybe Ian would be calmer and more at ease without constantly having to worry about keeping quiet and walking on eggshells.

He strokes Ian’s hair gently.

“I’m gonna build us a house some day,” he breaks the silence.

“You are?” Ian lifts his head up and gives him a questioning look.

“Yeah, I am. Just for the two of us. Was thinking two bedrooms, one big living room and a kitchen with one of those, what are they called, islands? in the middle.” He smiles at Ian and continues.

“Build a large basement, for weights and bench and stuff, y’know? Would you like that?”

“Yeah, I would like that,” Ian smiles and kisses the knuckles on  Mickey’s hand that is casually splayed across his stomach.

“We could have a dog or something, a small pool in the back maybe, white picket fence… Whole nine yards. ” 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Maybe have one of those swings on the porch? What dou you say?”

Ian cupps his head and runs his thumbs over Mickey's cheek. He presses their foreheads together and whispers, “As long as I have you to swing with me I don’t care about anything else.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> one-toomany.tumblr.com


End file.
